


Hope

by Benji_Deeds



Category: Marvel (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Eating Disorders, Electroconvulsive Therapy, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:55:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23680423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Benji_Deeds/pseuds/Benji_Deeds
Summary: Christian's new life started the moment he stepped out of Winston's manor.OrAfter leaving the home he had been trapped in, Christian is still suffering from the issues they forced upon him. Emma gets him help for the physical aspects, but Christian finds solace in someone else for his emotions and for motivation to keep going.
Relationships: Bobby Drake/Christian Frost
Kudos: 9





	Hope

Christian's new life started the moment after he stepped foot outside of Winston's manor. 

The wind and fresh air hit him instantaneously, and like a leaf, his fragile, starved body went with it. Weak knees crumbled and he was caught by the cold embrace of his younger sister. Cold...extremely so, really. Why was she so-Christian looked up at her to see his sister encased in...was that diamond? Had she been like that when he was trapped, fighting inside his own mind? He might have been too out of it to even notice. Behind him, two hands were reached out to support him if need be. The man...Bobby, was rather sweet like that, he could already tell. 

Christian gathered his senses and planted his feet more securely on the ground. Tired eyes glanced up at his sister and he sputtered out some form of the question she already knew he was going to ask. Emma simply kept her hand - not diamond now - on his back as she looked ahead. "There's plenty of changes that you'll find in time." He felt a dizzying sort of weight rest in the pit of his stomach, but tried his best to forge a mask to cover his anxiety. Much easier than dealing with it, he decided.

He sat silently in the back seat of Emma's car as she drove them back into town. Christian felt sick, looking at the sights. How long had it been since he'd seen grass? Trees? Even the pavement? This wasn't anything special. Nothing remarkably beautiful. Not even in the top ten places he'd travelled to when he was younger. But it was the first view of the outside world he got to look at in years. And to him, it was the most gorgeous sight he'd ever gotten to experience. With his hand shielding his reddened eyes, the wind blowing fast enough in the topless car to drown out noise, and enough distance between him and the two up front, Christian cried. Really cried. He had his life back. 

But by exorcising those ancient demons, Christian's angels would soon leave. 

He moved into Emma's house and, after the first week or so of seemingly endless freedom, Christian began to sink once more. He couldn't explain away what made him feel so trapped, so anxious, so...wary of those around him. There was a dooming sort of familiarity in the echoing halls Emma had in her home. Walking down them made Christian feel as though he needed to tiptoe, not make a sound or he'd find himself punished. 

The colors around him blurred, shapes becoming meaningless as he fumbled to press his palm flat against the wall for support. His legs were jelly, his head a spinning maze, his stomach a tilt-a-whirl. Nausea hit him blindly and distantly he wondered how he managed that considering the lack of food in his stomach. Heavy footsteps pounded in his ears, coming closer to him until he felt the frantic need to shrink away, go back to his room until the mess he made of his life was fixed. A chill gripped his shoulder and he flinched almost childishly, a pitiful noise escaping him like a whimper. What had he done wrong this time? How long would he have to stay isolated? How long without food? He didn't want the pills shoved down his throat anymore, please. Echoes of pain haunted him until he hit the floor, the hand that was stabilizing him moving to his head as if that would quiet his thoughts. He shrank in on himself, fingers twisted in his hair to find some sort of grounding pain that wasn't mental anguish. Breaths came in sharp intakes, painful in his sides. But at least he could breathe. 

"Christian. Darling, what is going on with you?" A stern but caring voice cut through his fast-paced thoughts. It caught him off guard like a slap to the face; alarming, but still with a twinge of hurt. The hand on his shoulder hurt less when he knew who it was attached to. Just Emma. Just his sister. He wasn't going to be hurt anymore. She wouldn't hit him. 

Christian's thoughts were still fleeting, but he managed to squeeze his eyes shut, concentrating as much as he could on breathing, bringing himself to a calm, though it was increasingly more difficult. When he opened them again, his bleary vision gave him some focus on his sister, her expression even and awaiting an answer from him. He tried to say he was fine, but the words wouldn't form. His last thought before the world darkened and a heavy sleep overtook him was that he was glad he had some immunity to his sisters' telepathy.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Consciousness didn't appear unto him for some time. 

His groggy mind lulled him into the real world, alerting him dimly to the voices above him. One of them was deep and unfamiliar on the surface, though his mind was tugging for some distant memory of that tone. He knew it from somewhere, he was sure. The disembodied voice was saying something about low vitals, a distinguished case of low body mass index, and...something else that Christian's tired mind couldn't process. 

The other voice was one he could match without fault. His sister had, of course, been the one that deemed herself his caretaker. That ounce of pettiness was what he needed to push his cloudy brain into reality. He opened his eyes and the clever introduction he meant to say fell off his tongue as he realized where he was. A clean, bright room. Heavy curtains guarding their space. An uncomfortable-as-fuck bed under him. The IV running into his arm…

A hospital. Even if but a specialized one.

"Em." He croaked out his first word since fainting. 

"Oh, Christian! You're awake. Good. This is-" Her business tone never lacked, did it? Even while she was going to introduce who was presumably once a colleague of hers. Close enough to trust for this. 

"Em...Why did you-A hospital…"

She cut him off as he had done her. "Don't be ridiculous. You should've seen yourself. You needed this." Her tone grew more stern as if she was correcting a misbehaving student.

"Emma, please." He tried again, his voice startling even himself as he balled his shaking hands into fists with anger. 

Emma sighed, resting a hand on her hip as she promptly asked the other person in the room - presumably the one that had nursed him awake - to leave so she could talk to him. She turned back to Christian once she was sure the other had left, raising a brow in order to get him to explain. 

Christian felt the tightness in his throat fight the urge to swallow down his misery. "I can't be here," he spoke hoarsely, "Em, it's too much. I can't do this. It's too much." He made an attempt to sit up, wincing because of the shift it caused of his IV and-oh, God, the two others must've seen the dotted scars of a short-lived heroin user littering his arms when it had been placed in.

His sister stood over him, her expression sympathetic. "It won't be for too long." She glanced up and he followed her gaze to the dripping IV bag. He guessed that he'd have to finish that and then be set to go. It would take thirty minutes or so, but he might be able to live with that.

Emma gave him a more genuine smile, and leaned over with her hand extended. He knew, logically, it was probably to check his temperature, but his mind was still fixed on the horrible realization of being in a place so similar to what had been a personal hellhole. Flashes of his old life took control and he saw the gloved hand of someone about to shove a bit into his mouth. His sister's hand grew closer. Now there were electrodes in it. The vivid memory almost gave him the feeling of them on his head. He glanced over, paralyzed with an irrational fear, and suddenly a cart became the machine with dials that he hated so much. Emma's manicured hand against his forehead electrocuted him in his terrified shock and he flinched away. Her lips pursed in that worried sort of way she had. 

"Henry," Emma called out, her gaze still focused on Christian, "Come back in here, if you would?" 

The man from before, Henry now, did just that, picking up the notes that he had presumably taken while studying Christian's vitals. Henry seemed to give Emma a look before turning back to his patient and explaining his condition. He made eye contact over a pair of round glasses, and Christian had to assume either those were just for reading or this person truly had a strange way of going about things. Both were possible, of course. 

"Due to the dangerous dearth of fluids, your low BMI and muscle mass, as well as the fainting episode, my prognosis is that of malnutrition. I have you on a rehydrating IV, which you're about halfway through now, and will give you some of the necessary energy and strength to get back home, but will not fix the problem for a lasting amount of time." The doctor cleared his throat, scanning his notes again, though Christian had the haunting feeling that it wasn't due to the necessity of looking at them for a reminder. "Considering your finances, as well as your sister's care-" Christian's face heated at that; he should be the one caring for her, not the other way around, "-I have to assume the lack of nutrition is either due to lack of motivation or is intentional. Do you...have anything to weigh in?"

Christian's mouth was dry. He didn't want to talk about this of all things. He'd almost rather the flashes of going through electroshock. "I…" He trailed off, glancing at Emma and begging her to understand that he couldn't say it outloud. She knew the institution had starved him, but he hadn't spoken a word about his own struggles with eating and self image. 

Emma turned to Henry again, her eyes locked and knowing, "Treatment plan?" 

Christian breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for her despite how frustrated he had been previously. He'd have to give her a proper hug after he got out of here.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Some time, some crying, and yes, some proper hugs later, Christian tiredly left the hospital wing of the school, his sister to his side. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a familiar - but this time in a way that kickstarted something in his heart - person sliding his way down toward them. Or, more accurately, toward Henry, who had been escorting them out to make sure Christian was truly stabilized enough. The familiar person's laugh followed them until it grew close enough to be directly behind them. 

"Oh, my stars and garters! Bobby…" Henry's voice lifted from the serious one of an experienced medic to one of an amused friend. Christian stopped walking and turned to see Bobby Drake hanging childishly off the shoulders of - oh, that's who he was! - Hank McCoy, the Beast. Christian remembered watching them on television years ago. Of course, they'd changed enough to be a little distant of instant recognition. 

There was a pang in his chest. Some feeling he hadn't had since...since Dante. Something that, for all that time spent in either the hospital or locked away in Winston's mansion, he never thought he could feel again. There, a few feet away from him, was the man that gave Christian's echoing, scared mind something that Emma never could. Hope. 

He let his gaze linger on Bobby for a moment more, raising his hand a little as if to wave goodbye. Between some of the looks they were getting and Emma's growing impatience to leave the place, Christian wasn't sure how long it was going to be before he could see Bobby again, but he knew he wanted to make it up to him. Maybe give him something in return for the new life - the hopeful life - that Bobby gifted him. Christian smiled, his first since this started, and followed his sister back to her car. He straightened his posture and lifted his head. The promise of a gift to the man he gave him a fuzzy feeling in his stomach, like butterflies one might have gotten for their third grade crush, gave him a reason to push forward, to live. 

His demons may have revisited, but Christian knew there was an angel that hadn't left him, either.


End file.
